


Reasons

by Hey_there_bud



Series: Reasons Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Almost sorry, Angst, Could be Johnlock if you so desired, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Gen, He has his reasons for not telling people he's alive, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Never said they're good ones, Post Reichenbach, Pre and Post Reichenbach, Reichenbach, Reichenbach Feels, Sherlock's fears, but mostly platonic - Freeform, but they're there, platonic johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_there_bud/pseuds/Hey_there_bud
Summary: Sherlock has his reasons for not telling John he's alive. Here are some of them.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: Reasons Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016700
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is non-beta'd and non-brit picked, meaning all mistakes are my own. I own none of the characters, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the modern adaptation belongs to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. 
> 
> Thanks for tapping on this story and I hope you enjoy!

I could have told you the plan. 

While we’re waiting for Kitty to return to her flat, I tell you what is going to happen. Much like the pool, Moriarty will use my weaknesses against me. That will include you, obviously, but as he saw last time, you aren’t afraid to fight. Therefore this time you, and anyone else involved, will be unaware of the danger. To ensure I don’t warn you, he will make me alerting you the trigger. 

He said he would burn the heart out of me. I’m married to my work. It’s what I said in Angelo’s the first night we met. That’s why he destroyed my reputation, to destroy my work, and to burn my heart. He’ll want the world to see I was beaten, and he will make my final downfall public. 

I tell you my plan, the 13 different possibilities, and how the worst case scenario will result in me faking my death. You agree with going along with it on the condition that you get to destroy Moriarty’s network with me. I agree. 

During this entire time, Moriarty was listening from upstairs. He’s seen our cards, and he knows how to play his hand. He never comes down and reveals himself as Richard Brook. Instead of telling his snipers to wait until I’ve jumped on the roof, he signs my name on one final crime. 

It’s 5 murders. He gets past Mycroft’s security, hires an extra sniper for Molly, and maintains the 3 mercenaries already trained on you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. While on the roof he shows me a bullet, tells me he made half a dozen of the special casings with “Sherlock Holmes’s heart” engraved on them. With a sense of horror I stare at you exiting the car and turning to the rooftop. Less than a second later I see you fall and red pool about your body. 

By the time I realize how close I am to the edge, it’s too late. “Want to join them?” I hear, before being shoved toward the pavement below. 

*~*~*~*

You would have come with me. 

It’s been an hour since I didn’t jump from Bart’s rooftop, and you have just been released from the orange blanket. Molly comes to get you, and you are brought to the lab where we first met. I am waiting here, ready to explain everything. And I do. When I ask if you want to come with me, you say yes without hesitation. You’re still clinging to me, as you have been since you saw me in the middle of the room, but you have long since stopped using the words “bloody cock” and “idiot”. 

“Someone has to make sure you don’t actually kill yourself,” you say after accepting. There is one more squeeze before you finally let go. Officially, you have gone missing and I have died. Unofficially, we are off to Canada 3 days later. 

The New World goes fairly quickly, hardly stopping in the United States and Canada. There was a slight bit of trouble in Mexico, but after that South America was elementary. 

Then we move to Africa. Again, Moriarty hadn’t stretched his full power throughout the continent, and we are in and out in 6 weeks. Australia takes 2 months, but it easily would have taken 4 without you there. Asia takes 5 months simply because of the vastness of the continent. Finally, we’re back in Europe. 

The large bases are Russia, Ukraine, France, Serbia, and we’ll end back home in England. We go through Russia, Ukraine and France in one month. Then we hit Serbia. 

I made a miscalculation. We split up and were supposed to regather an hour later. I was running late and took a shortcut, but didn’t notice the signs of Moriarty’s final men following me until I had a bag over my head. 

They aren’t complete idiots. They know who I am. And they also know there have been two men dismantling the network piece by piece around the world. They beat me out in the open and, involuntarily, I cry out. You hear this and come slowly towards the sound. You’re alert. You take down 5 of their men before they reach you. But in the end, they do reach you. We’re both imprisoned and tortured. Mycroft comes to get us, and we’re almost out when they notice. Almost. You push me out the door, because you have a leg with a non-psychosomatic limp and will slow us down. I try to reach back, to drag you along, but you’ve already closed the door and gunshots are heard. 

Someone should have made sure you didn’t kill yourself. 

*~*~*~*

One word was all you needed. 

You’re standing at my grave, and I am hiding, just far enough away to be able to hear every word you say. 

“One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t be dead.” 

There is a stinging sensation at the edge of my eyes and my vision blurs slightly. It’s hardly been 10 days since my “death” and you’re probably still being followed. But I leave tomorrow, and if I don’t do this now I’ll never have the chance. So as you begin to turn around, I pick up a rock and throw it in your direction. 

As you turn around I emerge from behind the wall. “John,” I say. 

Quite literally, you’ve seen a ghost. You take a few cautious steps closer, seeming to make sure I’m really there, before rushing forward and crushing me in an embrace. I bring my arms up around you in return, and we’re holding each other like one of us might disappear if we let go. 

One of us disappears anyway. 

A supposed mourner shifts behind your back, and I see them bring something out of their pocket and aim it in our direction. My grip around you tightens briefly, and you seem to lean in more with it, which makes the action of shoving you away all the more painful. My final actions are pushing you away and turning to face the man, already pulling the trigger on his handgun. 

I may be dead, but I knew what would happen. The shock of being pushed away would cause you to turn your gaze (which had previously been angled downward, leaning into the embrace) to my face. There you would see my starring forward. Then you would turn your head to see what I’m looking at, and you would see the man pull the trigger. 

Mycroft would have already been on his way. He was the second I broke cover. He rolls in seconds too late, but his appearance gives you the chance to turn to me. The bullet hit right between my eyes, and it killed me instantly. You don’t have to be a doctor to know this. But you’ll sit by my side and yell my name anyways. Mycroft will come up beside you, look regrettably at my body, before slowly dragging you up and to his car. You’ll be in shock, maybe resist at first, but Mycroft has his way of making people do things. Once you’re inside, he will fill you in on the events of the rooftop. 

With me gone, and you now aware of what really happened in my confrontation with Moriarty, you’ll be the one to dismantle Moriarty’s network. It will take years, and afterwards you won’t be able to adjust to civilian life again. Mycroft will offer you a job with MI6 and you’ll accept, but you’ll simply be going through the motions. The image of my lifeless body in the graveyard never really leaves your mind, and you live the rest of your life dragging your feet through each day. 

It’s a life without purpose. A fate worse than death.

*~*~*~*

There are reasons I didn’t tell you John. You might not like them, but here you’re allowed to move on. Therefore I cannot apologize for my lack of action.

**Author's Note:**

> As I stated earlier, all mistakes are my own and I would be very grateful if you were to point them out to me. I came up with this idea in the middle of class and then wrote it at 1 am, meaning it was born out of boredom and procrastination. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and have a great day/night/afternoon/morning! I might write another (happier) version from John's perspective but this was a more solid idea in my head at the moment.


End file.
